


Boy Wonder

by inlovewithnight



Category: Oceans 11
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:46:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight





	Boy Wonder

When Linus was eleven, he spent six weeks in bed with bronchitis. It was impressive. He could have died. For about half of that time, he was mostly entirely recovered, bored out of his mind, and frequently threatening to throw himself out the window if he wasn't set free.

It wasn't an empty threat--they lived on the ninth floor--but it was a pretty weak one, because Linus had no pain tolerance whatsoever and his mother knew that perfectly well.

"Read a book," she told him, checking her lipstick in the glass of the picture of St. Anthony hanging over his dresser.

"I've read every book we have," Linus said, his voice creeping dangerously toward shrill. "Let me go to the library."

"You can't get out of bed, you'll catch your death. Read something again."

"I've read them all _twice_. And I'll really catch my death if I _jump out the window_ , Mom, I swear to--"

"Watch your mouth." She gave him a sharp look and applied more lipstick. "When your father gets back from Phoenix, I'm going to tell him to have a word with you."

Even at the age of eleven, Linus knew perfectly well that his father was nowhere near Phoenix. Probably not even anywhere in the western United States.

"Mom, I'm _bored_."

She sighed and dropped the lipstick into her purse. "I'll have your aunt Rachel send over something of Jeffrey's to keep you busy. I'll be at Mrs. Montgomery's if you need me. Have a good afternoon, dear."

Aunt Rachel sent a giant box of comic books. When Jeffrey came home on vacation from the military school that was an attempt to iron the burgeoning criminal element out of him, he was absolutely furious to discover that his mother had given away his really quite valuable collection. He smashed four windows and robbed the corner newsstand to express his displeasure, and ended up spending the next eight to ten months in juvenile detention.

Well before that happened, though, Bobby Caldwell had packed up his wife, Linus, and the comic books, and moved them halfway across the country. Much to Linus' surprise, their final destination actually was Phoenix. He was also now Linus Richards and, as far as anyone needed to know, his dad worked for a paper company.

Jeffrey's box of comics was good for the month in bed, the two weeks of after-school boredom that followed, and the drive to Arizona. Once in Phoenix, he realized that he didn't actually know where one went to acquire _more_ comic books, and then his dad bought them a TV to thank his wife for her patience and with any luck purchase an additional supply of it, so Linus taped up the box and more or less forgot about it.

**

Although it's been years since he looked at a comic book, the bright panels and stark dialogue linger in the back of his mind, and sometimes poke their head up to say hello. Like now, sitting in a nearly empty airport bar in St. Louis, Missouri, waiting for a some guy who knows something and watching Danny and Rusty argue.

No, that's not what they're doing, he thinks, taking a sip of his ginger ale (the strongest thing he's allowed to drink under the terms of his probation with Rusty following an unfortunate incident the previous weekend). No, Danny and Rusty do not argue. They banter. They gracefully fence. They, although he suspects he is using the term incorrectly, execute a pas-de-deux. Always about some impossibly esoteric topic, like mid-century jazz or stand-up comedy of the late 1980s orâ"he takes another sip and tunes in to their conversation for a momentâ"the proper technique for making a mint julep.

Linus wishes that he could transform his ginger ale into something stronger through sheer force of will. Now that's an idea just waiting for a comic book. The Amazing Adventures of _The Bartender_ , able to turn water into wine with a single...actually, that gig's already taken. Right.

He painstakingly lifts an ice cube from his glass with his straw and pops it into his mouth, rolling it back and forth over his tongue and then crunching it between his teeth. He has a hunch that's more like a grim certainty that if he _did_ acquire comic-book hero status, his power would be something stupid and unfortunate. He's destined to be a Green Lantern, empowered by tacky jewelry and emasculated by the color yellow. Most death-defying stunt: crossing the street in front of a school bus.

Danny, he suspects darkly as he fishes another ice cube from his glass, is Batman.

Danny Ocean is _absolutely_ Batman. Crazy, mortal, invincible through sheer force of will and wits. Changes identities with the flip of a switch. Looks good in a suit. Batman.

And Rusty...

Linus glowers for a moment, watching Rusty methodically chew his way through a plate of nachos and spinach dip.

Rusty is just a jackass.

"Hey kid," Rusty says without looking up. "Let Stan have your seat there."

Linus looks up and discovers that six-foot-six of grim-looking guy in a bright blue suit is frowning at him. Their contact, one improbably named Mr. Stan Lee. No wonder Linus feels like he's landed on Bizarro World sometimes. This is his life.

"Hey, Stan," Danny says, as Linus knocks his glass over and scrambles to collect the spilled ice from the table top. "How was your flight?"

**

"And that's all there is to it," Rusty says, biting into a guava. Where Rusty found a guava in the middle of Denver in the middle of the afternoon, Linus cannot venture to say. "You got all that, kid?"

"Close enough." Linus squints through the windshield at the elegant house across the street. An NBA player lives there, apparently, a very wealthy one who owns a number of very nice cars and a particular item of fine artwork that they fully intend to relieve him of. At least, Linus is pretty sure they're stealing the art and not the cars. Much more portable and less conspicuous, so it would be logical, but he's been wrong before. "The important part is that we have to sit here for another two hours, right?"

Rusty glances sideways at him. "No, the important part is that you remember where that door is, because after the job we're going to need it."

"Right. That door. The one...right there." Linus points at it to illustrate. "Got it."

"Are you taking this seriously, Linus? Because I don't feel that you are."

Linus shifts in his seat, wondering if saying what he is about to say is a good idea. Probably not. On the other hand, what does he have to lose? "What superhero are you?"

Rusty blinks. "Excuse me?"

"What superhero...you know what, never mind. So, that door, huh? That's all I have to remember?"

"Oh, no," Rusty says, putting his fruit down in the ashtray and turning in his seat to face Linus. "Superhero, huh? Easy. Batman."

Linus clears his throat diffidently. "I think Danny's Batman."

Rusty's expression actually falters for a moment. Linus is 92% sure that's the first time he's ever made that happen. "Are you kidding me? Danny is not Batman."

"Who else could he be?"

Rusty scowls at him. "I'm very insulted right now."

"Maybe you can both be Batman."

"We can't both be Batman, there's only one Batman, it's not..." Rusty shakes his head and turns away, twisting the key in the ignition until the engine leaps to startled life. "I am not having this discussion." He shakes his head again and pulls out into traffic. "And Danny is _not_ Batman."

"That door, huh?" Linus asks after two blocks of grim silence. Rusty ignores him all the way back to the hotel.

**

"All right," Danny says, placing a cardboard carrier of smoothies on the table. "Gather around and listen up, because the plan is undergoing some slight modifications."

Linus takes one of the smoothies and shrinks back in his chair, doing his best to be inconspicuous. Given that he never quite managed to understand the plan in the first place, modifications can only help him out.

"Last night, Rusty and I met with several of the young ladies who accompany members of our mark's entourage," Danny continues, sitting down on the window ledge and taking a sip of his own breakfast blend. "Based on the information they provided, we've had to make a few changes."

A chunk of fruit lodges in Linus' straw. He blows sharply to dislodge it and sprays yogurt up and across the table.

Danny looks at him sternly. "Linus. Please try to pay attention."

"I am." His voice is sharp and defensive even to his own ears, and he stirs his drink fitfully. "You're making a few changes. I got it. I'm right with you."

Rusty frowns at him across the table and slowly licks yogurt off his straw. "You've been very strange lately."

"I have not," Linus mutters, knowing that whatever he says is destined to be ignored.

"Strange how?" Danny asks.

Rusty waves the immaculately clean straw at Linus. "Edgy."

"I'm not edgy. I'm fine."

"Twitchy."

"I'm _fine_."

"Showing some signs of erratic behavior and neuroses."

"I'm not erratic, I'm not neurotic, I'm not edgy _or_ twitchy, and please, Danny, could you just tell me what these changes are so we can get on with things?" He takes a gulp of smoothie and glares at Rusty before turning his attention to Danny. His full attention. He's all over this.

Danny looks back and forth between them, raises an eyebrow, then sets his drink aside. "So, what we've decided to do is change the basic structure of the job. It's not going to be a White Russian anymore."

Linus suspects that's probably for the best, as he doesn't have the faintest idea what a White Russian is in this context. "Okay."

"Instead, we're going to go with an E Street Shuffle."

Linus stares at him for a moment.

"Do you have a question?" Danny asks.

Linus pushes his chair back and leaves the room. He isn't entirely sure where he's going, given that the hotel suite isn't all that big, but he is absolutely going somewhere that is not _there_ , and that does not contain _them_.

"What did I tell you?" he hears Rusty sigh. "Erratic."

"You also said neurotic," Danny says thoughtfully. "How are you getting neurotic out of this?"

"Oh, will you two just cut it out right now?" Linus shouts, kicking the TV stand. "Just stop it already."

"You have a strong objection to changing the plan, Linus?" Danny's voice carries from the other room without losing tone or inflection, preserving the perfect conversational neutrality. Linus would bet money that he's still sitting on the window ledge and sipping his drink. "You have a contribution to make?"

"I just want you two to quit screwing with me," Linus informs the wall.

"We're screwing with him now?" Rusty asks dryly. "I thought we weren't doing that until two-thirty. You changed that plan, too, Danny? You couldn't send out a memo?"

"I wasn't aware of any screwing," Danny says. "Linus, come back in here and we'll talk about this."

Linus comes back into the room and stops a precise step inside the doorway. "I just want the bullshit to stop, okay?"

Rusty smiles. "Then I'm afraid you're in the wrong line of work, buddy."

"I know I haven't been doing this for a million years like you two," Linus presses on, "but I'm not a complete idiot. An E Street Shuffle? That is not a con, that is a Bruce Springsteen album."

"Technically," Rusty says, pointing his straw at Linus, "it's a Bruce Springsteen _song_. The album is called _The Wild, The Innocent, **and** The E Street Shuffle._ "

"What is the difference?" Linus asks, vaguely aware that he's shouting and waving his hands in the air, but powerless to stop either.

"Clearly we need to educate you in the modern masters, Linus," Danny says calmly.

"I am familiar with Springsteen. E Street, the guy who plays the saxophone, the guy from The Sopranos. It doesn't matter. It's not the point!"

"Steven Van Zandt didn't actually join the group until _Born To Run_ , so he wasn't involved with "E Street Shuffle," Rusty mumbles around a mouthful of yogurt. "But I guess that's probably not your point either."

Linus' shoulders slump in defeat. "How do you _do_ that?"

"Do what?" Danny asks with a frown.

"Know something about every random ridiculous topic in the world. Always have a witty comeback. Be... _you_. Both of you." He shakes his head and drops into a chair, despondent. "I think I'm having an existential crisis."

Rusty blinks slowly. "About our line of work?"

"No. About hanging around you and Danny."

Rusty nods. "A lot of people have that problem."

"Linus, there's no magic to it," Danny says patiently. "It's just something you pick up along the way. It takes a while. Neither one of us was this good when we started."

"Speak for yourself," Rusty says, tossing his empty cup into the trash. "But stick with us, kid, and you'll get there. You'll be the Nils Lofgren of the group in no time."

Linus stares at him. "I have no idea what that means."

Danny slides off the windowsill and tucks his hands into his pockets. "World's most overqualified second guitarist. Really, don't worry. Just do what we tell you and don't screw up and you'll have it down cold before you even realize it."

"Just that easy," Linus says, somehow managing not to roll his eyes. It's nice that they have something resembling confidence in him, really. "I am Robin to your Batman."

"Batman, huh? Me?" Danny smiles and smooths the front of his shirt. "Guess that makes Rusty Alfred? I can live with that."

Rusty's glare could break glass. Linus is pretty sure this is what counts as a sidekick's victory.

  



End file.
